


The Praetorian

by Deathcall



Category: Star Citizen (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 17:00:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathcall/pseuds/Deathcall
Summary: StarCitizen Universe / The Praetorian tells the story of a small news agency based in the New York Area on Earth. Follow in the steps of the agency's reporters as they interview a variety of characters and struggle to make ends meet.





	1. Out there

"What most military enthusiasts right now are wondering is: Is it worth spending the resources to research and build a new class of battleship, especially when history teaches us that big units have a tendency to be both time and cost ineffective?"

"It is a matter of foresight. Many people seem to have forgotten that we are no longer bound to our planet. On one hand, we might consider ourselves lucky. The wars in which we have participated were against enemies over which we had a marked advantage, both numerical and technological. On the other hand, these conflicts allowed for little innovation. The simple truth is that we have fallen into stagnation.

"Admiral, I can hardly say that the Tevarin Conflicts were a 'walk in the park'..."

"No, of course not. But I am afraid you are misunderstanding. I am not saying that these wars were easy to win, I'm saying that the way in which they were fought provided little room for learning."

"I see. But what about the Xi'an conflict?"

"There was no conflict persé. Only a huge build up of war materials that withered our economy. There were few things learnt during the years of tension with the Xi'an. To be honest, if there  _had_  been a war, our military would have gotten a crash course on space warfare. Do not forget, the Xi'an have been in conflict with the Kr'thak for a long time. Even when fighting a war on two fronts, their combat experience would have given them a definitive advantage over our forces."

"So, hypothetically speaking, if we went to war with the Xi'an, we would lose?"

"It's impossible to know how a war will unfold. The human race has a good grasp in this galaxy and we would be a tough nut to crack. My hypothesis is that we would have a bad time at first but then we would adapt, as we have always done. Most likely the conflict would end in a peace treaty when both parts have their fill of blood. I high price to pay just so we learn how to kill each other better."

"What about the Vanduul, have we not learnt from our encounters with them?"

"We have, but this knowledge would not help much in a conventional war. The Vanduul, though organized, do not behave like an army. They are more prone to pillage and plunder than to sustained military action. Their seemingly mundane objectives puts them in the same category of most criminals and pirates. Now, if they were to band together and present a solid opposition, then that would be entirely different. As it is now, they are doing the exact opposite, striving to avoid prolonged contact and cut outgoing communications from their targets so as to face the least amount of opposition as possible."

"I must say that is worrisome."

"Indeed, but it is not something to panic over. We know the punches are coming, so we can brace for them. Our men at the western frontier are prepared and receive new equipments and protocols frequently. Fast Response Fleets and Squadrons have been issued. This, together with a slew of new communication protocols, should help protect our colonists from the Vanduul threat."

"That is a relief. But we have drifted from our topic. You mentioned foresight, innovation and stagnation. Care to elaborate on these subjects?"

"Citizens need to understand that our practical knowledge in large scale space combat is very limited. Currently, our focus is on carriers and carrier based squadrons. This formula has proven true for centuries and by no way is our team suggestion we scuttle it. However, the kind of firepower that a battleship class vessel provides to a fleet should not be shrugged off as mere 'bravado'. Also, in the same way we produce smaller ships with specific purposes in mind, we can adjust our battleship designs to serve as more than just floating gun platforms. Cyber warfare, fleet coordination, planetary siege, the possibilities are vast and unexplored."

"Do other races make use of battleships in their fleets?"

"We have identified at least two different Xi'an battleship designs, though, other than what we can infer from looking at them and non-invasive scans, we have no idea what they can do. I would say it is certain most races have battleship class units in their fleets."

"We shared images of these battleships in one of our specials not long ago. Still, why not spend our resources and time in improving our current forces?"

"This is where stagnation comes to play. There's only so much you can do with a hammer, no matter how perfect it's design. Perhaps the hammer is not the tool for the job, and that is when you start regretting not bringing along the sledge."

"This is going to be a hell of an expensive sledge though."

"Certainly. The project's cost is very elevated, which is why, unlike most military projects, the High-Secretary has submitted our budget to the congress for approval."

"What can you tell us about the project itself?"

"The new design, codename "Cataphract", is an amalgamation of our best technologies and an attempt to implement some we acquired from the Xi'an on our last collaboration project. There are also new modules that have already gone through initial testing but await the opportunity to be used at a larger scale. As with most cases, two almost identical ships will be built in a period which we estimate between three and four years. Once the design proves ready for mass production, the build time should decrease notably."

"Can you give us a clue of what this new ship will be able to do?"

"Obviously most of it is currently classified. But I can tell you that the Cataphract will have its own interceptor wings as well as top of the line short-range defense weaponry."

"Thank you Admiral Rosenthal, I think I speak for our audience when I say that we hope your project is cleared as soon as possible. Can't wait to see the Cataphract in action."

"It has been my pleasure."

The omni-directional camera powers down with a low buzz.

"Thank you again Admiral." The journalist offers his hand.

"You can tell Nathan that we are even know." He said, while shaking hands.

"I'm sure the director knows that already sir, to be honest, I was half expecting to be thrown out as soon as I gave you his note." He picks up the camera.

The admiral looked at his trash bin where the ripped remains of said paper laid.

"Well, the idea crossed my mind." He sighed. "I would have had to talk to the press at some moment anyway, at least I got rid of that weight over my shoulder at the same time." He pointed at the paper with his thumb and scoffed.

"I am sorry if some of my questions seemed ill directioned Admiral, sometimes I need to ask more as part of the audience than as a reporter." Apologetically said the journalist.

"You are not my first reporter, kid. Trust me, if I didn't have to punch you in the face, then it means you did decently enough." He answered with a shrug.

"Well, thank you once more Admiral. I'll send you the link once it goes live." Said the journalist as he got up and walked to the door.

The admiral nodded and watched the young man leave his office.

On the hallway, orange light came in through the massive windows. The reporter approached them and fixed his jacket while letting out a deep sigh. R&D Lab 35-E was an oddity in the fact that it was on the ground level and not surrounded by towering buildings. It wasn't often that he could see a sunset like that. The trees and their foliage also looked quite breathtaking, though he couldn't tell if they were nature-born or not. He remembered one of his friends at college said that you could tell them apart by looking at the grooves on the trunk, so he leaned on the railings and tried to get a better look. The sound of someone's steps made him reconsider, perhaps that was not the best place to idle and appreciate nature. He started walking back to the entrance.

"Here's your ID, Mr. da Capri. I'm glad I didn't have to call an ambulance." Said the receptionist as she handed back his identification card.

"Thanks... So he wasn't joking about punching reporters in the face, huh?"

"Well, not just reporters." She chuckles. "I have STAGH on speed call."

"That  _is_  kinda worrisome." He clears his throat. "Do you handle Admiral Rosenthal's messages? I'd like to send him a link to the interview once its uploaded."

"I do, but I can't really give you his spec-ad." She taps her fingers on her MobiGlas. "Why don't you give me yours?"

"Just check for 'The Praetorian' on the spectrum, we should be among the first hits for the NYA. Tag my profile there and you'll get any updates I do on my section."

The receptionist tilts her head a bit.

"Ah... sure. I'll keep the Admiral posted."

"Thanks." He nods at her. "See you around!"

He walked towards the parking lot while having the strangest feeling that he had missed something important.

**...**

"How did it go Axel?"

The reporter shrunk away from the screen with a gasp and veered the hover off course. A warning beep started up on the vehicle's sound system.

"God dammit Nathan!" He steered back, engaged the auto-pilot and looked at the screen. "Are you trying to get me killed!?"

The man on the screen let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.

"Hell Axel, If I'd known you were this talented I would have put you on the drama section right away!"

"Yeah, yeah, funny. How the hell did you activate my screen like that anyway?"

"Company car, man. Insurance requires we have it tapped."

"Company car my ass, we all pitched in to buy this thing. And how the hell does tapping it allow you to just turn on my screen like that?"

"A hauler never gives away his best routes, my friend."

"Right..." Said Axel as he rolled his eyes.

"So? How did it go?"

"Surprisingly well. I'll go home and do the final edits on the video. Unless my Glas finally gives out I should have it uploaded tonight."

"Alright man, but fill the tank and come in early tomorrow, Chel will need the hover."

"Do we still have credit on that station by the office?"

"If by credit you mean a debt bill the length of a jump-point, then yes."

Axel took a quick look at his bank account on his MobiGlas.

"Tell Chel he'll have to pay for my lunch when he returns."

**...**

"Are you tired of being grounded? Do you find yourself looking at the stars and wondering what is out there? Perhaps it's time for a change. Zeal Operations Multinational: Bold Inter-Planetary Exploration, we are waiting for you... out there."

Axel raised an eye-brow at the ad showing on the elevator's screen. He was about to make a snide comment about it to the person next to him but realized that he was actually watching with a serious face. The man had prominent bags under his eyes and his clothes had seen better days. They probably lived in the same apartment complex judging by the key-card in his hand. He watched the rest of the ad with him. After it ended, they both looked out at the city.

"You think they take Civilians?" Asked the man.

"Most likely. Citizens have better things to do than float around in space." Answered Axel, his tone revealing how he felt about the ad.

The man fell into deep thought. When Axel left the elevator he was still there, looking at his own reflection on the window.

Dreamers had become more common as of late. People kept complaining about how bad things were and the best thing they could think of was getting on a ship and going out to space. In Axel's opinion, that was crazy. What makes these people think that they would be better off sitting in a tiny cockpit for hours either hauling things around or staring at the vacuum, he just didn't know. It sounded romantic, alright, but he knew well enough how hard it truly was to make it 'out there'.

He was in charge of the politics section on 'The Praetorian', so he was used to the type, but one thing was reading their comments on the spectrum, and another was looking at them in real life. His conviction waned for a moment, but then came back with full strength. Nah, it was pure nonsense. Better a paying job down here than a slim chance of breaking it even up there. Still, after entering his apartment and switching on his Glas, he found himself looking out the window at the ships on approaching vector to the nearby landing pad.

"Well, who knows." He shrugged. "Maybe one day we get absorbed by a big company and I get sent up to cover some off-world story or something." He sighed and sat down to work on the interview.


	2. Better Times

"You will at least admit that there is room for interpretation."

"As long as you admit that you are twisting said interpretation to fit your needs. You have to-"

"Senator Dohasan, I assu-"

"Mr. Kal'Chel, I see no purpose to this interview if you do not let me speak."

"My most sincere apologies Senator. Please, continue."

"Thank you. You have to understand that more than interpret the norm, you are trying to build a new one upon it. What you are claiming we can 'infer' from the FCA is a completely new act that would  _have_  to be treated separately. The articles are quite clear, you are twisting them by following a line of interpretation that allows you to extend their protection to life forms for which they were not meant."

"What about the will of the legislators?"

"The men and women who worked on the Fair Chance Act had a very good reason to write it the way they did. And I will remind you that the Garron II incident happened almost two hundred years  _after_  the  _Second_  Tevarin War. You are looking for loopholes, not what the drafters actually wanted."

"Article one: The aim of this Act is to protect the lives and well-being of species..."

"On planets who have not developed! The Tevarin were already a space-faring species when we made contact with them. You are just selecting article sections which are favorable to your position!"

"Article one also states that humans have a responsibility towards other living beings. It also says any harm caused to them must be duly justified."

"The take-over of Elysium IV was done during the course of a war, one that the Tevarin started. It only makes sense from a military point of view, and it most likely helped reduce the numbers of victims on both sides drastically."

"It still does not justify the terraforming of the entire planet to better suit human needs. We are talking about a race's homeworld here Senator. How is it possible to justify this from an ethical point of view."

"It is not my place to do so."

"Senator, the Tevarin, as a race, are slowly but surely being led into extinction. With no world to call home and virtually no political representation, what is left but dwindling into oblivion?"

"You are being melodramatic. The Tevarin have been adopted onto the UEE. Like you, many of them find their place in our worlds and way of life."

"Adopted, or absorbed?"

"I will beg you not to twist my words."

"This is not about mere semantics, Senator. You said it very clearly: They are to find a place in  _your_  worlds, in  _your_  way of life."

"That is not what I meant."

"It is, however, what happens. The Tevarin culture and traditions are being watered down by the constant influx of direct human influence. With them, the entire will of the Tevarin is faltering. Reliable projections demonstrate that it will not be long before birth rates fall below sustainable levels. You accuse me of being melodramatic, I am only being realistic. Depriving a people,  _any_  people, from their home and their culture is the same as sentencing them to death."

"There  _is_  a place for the Tevarin in the UEE. They are the ones who are allowing themselves to lose what makes them what they are. Nothing has been done to prevent them from passing on their culture, or having property, or exercise any of the other rights available to all law abiding humans. It's only their own apathy and sourness that has led them to the state in which they are now."

"Senator, I have studied Earth's history. After the modern era, humans developed new ways to deal with the defeated parties of a war. They realized that in order for there to be long lasting peace, concessions had to be made on both parts. Forgiveness and friendship. A will to learn from the mistakes of the past and work together for a better future."

"We have extended our hand in both forgiveness and friendship, the Tevarin refuse to take it."

"After the Messer line was broken, Farwahl said: 'We have awoken from a nightmare.' Inspiring words indeed. Still, it seems that the Tevarin were left to linger in that bad dream."

"I fail to see the relation."

"How can the Tevarin take your hand while you still treat them the same as during that nightmare from which you supposedly woke up?"

"As I have said before. We do our best to accommodate the Tevarin in our culture."

"It is not about accommodating, Senator. It is about accepting. The humans simply refuse to accept the Tevarin. As long as Kaleeth remains in human hands, there won't be a way for these two cultures to accept it each other."

"This has been argued several times in the past decade. The UEE cannot afford to let go of Elysium IV, the economical consequences would be catastrophical."

"The Senate should be careful. That way of thinking eventually led up to Garron II."

"I will relay your warning."

"Thank you, Senator Dohasan, and thank you for your time as well."

The omni-directional camera powers down with a low buzz.

"Dohate, bring grandpa and his friend something to drink." Said Dohasan to the little kid who had been peeking through the flaps of the tipi during the entire interview. "Kal'Chel, you fight with words as well as your ancestors did with ships."

"You honor us, Senator." He answered courteously.

"How did you know I would come to the reserve today?"

"My editor claimed you would."

"Frankly, I haven't even heard of The Praetorian until today." He said while picking up a pipe from the nearby table.

Kal'Chel watched as the man lit his pipe and inhaled the smoke.

"I have to apologize to you, Kal'Chel. The fire in your words lit the old politician in me." He coughed a bit, inhaling more smoke as the fit passed. "After battle was joined, I'm afraid I may have been more..." He shook his head. "I spoke too much like a Senator, not enough like a human being."

"If you wish we can edit the interview. Or do it again."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, no." Said the man with a soft smile on his face. "The interview will have more value to you in its current state. People will-" He went through another coughing fit. "...relate better. I'll play the part of the evil Senator. They will eat it up like candy."

"As you wish."

There was a long pause in which neither of them said anything. The little boy came in with two glasses and left them by the table were the pipe had been, retreating back to the tent's flap without a word. Dohasan handed one to Kal'Chel leaving the other on the table.

"I know why your editor sent you to me." He took a deep breath of fresh air, moving his pipe aside for a moment. "You can see by yourself, my people and yours have suffered similar fates... though we have been enduring it much longer."

"With all due respect, Senator, it is hardly the same."

The old human nodded slightly and took a sip from the glass. He savored the beverage like a connoisseur. His interlocutor took a martial nod at him and drank as well. His expectations were broken when he realized it was simple water.

"Of course, its not the same." Continued Dohasan after putting the glass down on the table again. "But there are enough similarities to help your cause. And that's what you seek, is it not?"

"It is the cause of my people."

"I wish I could help you more, but I am a Senator, and in times like this, we need to speak with one voice." He looked down and let out a long sigh, filling the tipi with thick smoke. "It is sad, what is happening to your people. It may not be the same, but I know how it feels, so I think I can understand... at least a bit."

Kal'Chel remained silent.

"I just wanted you to know... Don't give up. Better times will come."

The Tevarin stood up and took a step forward, offering his hand to the old man.

"Thank you, Dohasan."

The human stood up as well and shook hands as energetically as his old age allowed him.

**...**

"Pay? You know I hate pay fries, common Chel..." Complained Axel as he dipped them. "And they are cold too. You remember a thousand different laws and articles and you can't remember what kind of fries I like?"

Kal'Chel continued to work on his Glas. Axel threw a fry his way, which he promptly caught and put in his mouth, chewing it down with a blank expression.

"They taste the same." Said the Tevarin in monotone.

"It's not just about taste! It's about texture, and crunchiness, and- "He noticed Chel just kept typing along without paying him any attention. "Forget it..."

The Preateorian's office is situated on the mid section of an aging skyscraper. Lots of low level traffic goes by its windows and were not for the sound-proof glass it would be way too noisy to work at. The office itself is rather small, composed of only two rooms. The first one they use as the general purpose room, it contains half a dozen scattered desks and a few commodities like sofas and the must-have appliances for a place such as this: A coffee machine and a fridge, as well as several Glas machines and spare cameras. The second room works as the meeting room and the editor's office.

"Who the hell buys  _just_  fries for lunch anyway..." Mumbled Axel.

"I got back too late to buy lunch, hence fries only." Answered Chel.

"Call Emy, tell her to bring something from her father's store." Pleaded Axel.

"I do not feel in a position where I can ask favors from Mr. Dupont yet." Said Chel without removing his eyes from his screen.

"You are asking Emy, not her father. Come on Chel, you know she'll say yes if  _you_  ask her."

"I will call her when my work is done." Said Chel wtih some weariness in his voice.

"Awesome. Now if only Nathan would pay us our wages perhaps I don't need to starve this week in order to make ends meet." Complained Axel as he sat down on his work station and began checking the posts on his last update.

**...**

"Give a farmer a sword, and he'll till the soil with it. Give a warrior a rake, and he'll cut his enemy's throat. This teaches us two things: One: Everyone has a place, somewhere where they belong. Not because we put them there, but because  _there_  is where they must be. Two: Everyone has a calling, something they must do. Sometimes it's not what they  _want_  to do, but it's what they  _have_  to do."

Kal'Chel looked at the screen. Lost in thought. It was not the first time he had seen this movie, and he always thought that the dubbing did it no justice, but today that had not bothered him. There was something in those same words he had heard dozens of times before that seemed different. He thought and thought while the movie kept going.

"Great job on today's interview Chel, I just got back and saw it. Prime material. I'll upload it with the midnight maintenance."

Chel looked around and noticed that the voice had come from his MobiGlas, it had probably rang a couple times, but he failed to hear it. His appartment was very dark, not much of the city's lights got through his thick curtains, although two things shone in it. The Glas where he was watching the old (badly dubbed) Tevarin movies and the screen on his MobiGlas, which was still lit up after receiving Nathan's message.

"Better times will come..." Said Chel, remembering what the old man had said.

And perhaps it was what Dohasan had said that had him wondering if the old Teverin saying was more than just words. Much of his youth was spent trying to learn the Rijora, not because his parents wanted him to, but because he did. He read, and read, but he couldn't understand it. When he became older, he began to see why. Having been detached from his culture, impregnated with the "taint" of human influence, the Rijora was just impossible to take seriously. He simply couldn't understand how following it was even possible, simply because he never lived in the society in which it was conceived.

Still, Corath'thal had died following it, so had his men. The rest resented the Rijora, and discarded it from their lives during the Purge. But what kind of purge does away with the good and leaves only the bad? The old human wasn't wrong, the Tevarin have themselves to thank for how they are. It was their fault, and even though his claims were righteous, what good would their homeworld be in their current state?

"Better times..." Chanted Chel once more.


	3. Brother by Brother

"Yes of course, that analogy has been around for more than a century. It has become sort of a 'trend' among sociologists, historians and common folk alike. While I do see where they are coming from, it carries so many negative implications that I try to avoid using it."

"What do you mean by 'negative implications'?"

"When people compare the Roman Empire with the United Empire of Earth they always do so by pointing out the similar problems that the latter shares with the former, sometimes even twisting facts or events so as to cause better impact on the crowds. Rarely do I see people recurring to this method who actually delve into the various ramifications of their arguments. Quite the contrary in fact. Most of the current supporters of said analogy purposely side-step along the benefits of our current method of government, feeding false information and personal criteria to the masses as if they were facts."

"Mr. Borges, your words could be considered defamation."

"I suppose they could. The same way their actions could be considered seditious."

"Is it truly sedition though? Those people are just asking to be able to govern themselves."

"Ms. Dupont, when Ivan Tseng announced the creation of the United Nations of Earth, everyone knew it would be a hard road to take. There were hundreds of countries with thousands of problems and millions of issues to take care of. However, back in 2380, we realized: Humanity must stand together. A lot of time has passed, and together we have progressed by leaps and bounds. Why split our race apart again? Why should we fall back to a system that only fomented in-fighting and petty squabbles among neighbors? We must avoid the creation of a vicious cycle that will only harm us in the long run. We must remain  _united_."

"What about the Banu? Have they not accomplished a form of government that allows each planet to represent itself?"

"S'emmêler les pédales, Ms. Dupont. You cannot compare the Banu Protectorate with the UEE. Our societies are very different."

"Evidently, but social behavior and customs change."

"Change should only be sought after in order to better that which is currently in place. I consider what you are proposing to be a step back more than progressing forward."

"Mr. Borges, the Banu in our aud-"

"I am sure most of them think ill about  _our_  behavior and customs. Forgive me if I do not tip-toe on my choice of words. I rather be blunt and assertive than mild and unconvincing."

"Still, you have not explained why we could not adopt a form of government similar to the Banu."

"Have you  _been_  in Banu space? The lust of material possessions rules every aspect of their society. Each planet left to fend for itself, criminals fly rampant, shielded by a judicial system that seems to have been created to foment crime rather than prevent it. Their famous "Gatherings" makes even the old United Nations look useful. And even though I think I am not qualified enough to speak about their religion, I seriously doubt a dogma centered around profiteering could be considered acceptable by our standards. All of these 'perks' derive from their chaotic and dysfunctional form of government. They are our exact opposite. They are what we could have become, or, if my fears prove true, what we  _will_  become."

"What fears?"

"The worst kind. The ones that are most likely justified."

"Mr. Borges, you certainly have a knack for the theatrical."

"You must forgive me, sometimes my hobbies get the best of me. In any case, I fear that all this talk about separation and federalism has been fueled by mega-corporations and personal interests seeking what most petty-minded men seek: Profit at the expense of others. After all, aren't all these 'advocates of federalism' using economical independence as the center piece of their arguments? Taxes  _this_ , contributions  _that_ , nonsense. We cannot sacrifice our 'pax romana' just so some unscrupulous individuals amass even  _more_  credits."

"What about representation, resource allocation, military protection, and a long list of etceteras?"

"I will not pretend that our current politics are not Earth-Centric. Unlike those other 'specialists' out there, I take the good with the bad. But we must ask ourselves: Is it worth losing six hundred years of progress? Can we not find a solution to all these problems within our current system? Earth is not blind to the needs of others, but we are old and set in our ways. I believe that Earth's greatest fear is becoming obsolete. We all know what happens to the elderly when they are left behind, abandoned and forgotten. Earth will not let go, which is why we must all hold humanity's fate  _together_."

"That will be hard when there is virtually nowhere to grab onto."

"Oh I am sure there will be plenty of tugging, pulling and pushing. Maybe even some fighting. But I assure you, the system can pull through, as long as the men and women who run it are up to the task. Because, Ms. Dupont, sometimes it is not the system that is to blame, but the people behind it."

"Thank you for your time Mr. Borges."

"No thanks required, it is a Citizen's duty to express his un-biased opinion in matters such as this, regardless of where he stands. We build our Empire upon people's ideas, and like any other such effort, it's the mixture that makes it strong."

The omni-directional camera powers down with a low buzz.

The middle-aged man picks up the camera and inspects it.

"I expected my first appearance in the Spectrum to be much different." He sighs. "This makes me regret even more not following through with my childish dream of becoming an actor." He hands the camera to the reporter.

"Don't feel bad Mr. Borges, you gave quite the performance. You are an excellent orator. Haven't you thought about running for Senator?" She answered after putting the camera away.

"Thought about it?  _Yes_. Actually considered it?  _No_. A man should not try to exceed his grasp. I am good at what I do and I'll stick to that. Like Earth, I'm stuck on my ways." He smiled.

Kondrat Borges was the type of person who spoke as much with his body as he did with his mouth. She noticed it as soon as the interview began. Every concept was explained with waving of hands and head nods. His right foot would grow restless when he got more passionate and it'd idle lazily above his left knee when he calmed down.

"What about your citizen's duty?" She asked with a tint of reproach.

"Oh, that was just for the cameras." He laughed. "No, no... seriously. I enjoy what I do, and I am good at it. Few men can say the same. Besides, Senators tend to be very busy, no time for relaxation." He picked up a bottle of wine from the table between them. "Ready for that glass?"

"Just one." She said while holding up her right index. "I am not good with alcohol."

At first she had no idea why Nathan sent her to interview yet another sociologist, but after the interview began, it became obvious. Not only was he quite a character - the kind people like watching even if they don't agree with him - but he was one of the few who actually had the guts to speak his mind. Most of the specialist she had talked to leaned to one side of the other while avoiding compromising too much, Borges was a nice change of pace.

Much to her demise though, the wine was excellent.

"It is good, isn't it? Makes me worry about our little discussion here. If things escalate too much, embargoes are soon to come. I'm afraid to think what vines grown on Earth would taste like nowadays..." He said with a truly concerned look in his face.

"For such an educated man, your concerns are very... earthly, Mr. Borges." She said.

"Kondrat is fine. And yes, I try to lead a simple life despite my area of expertise. And what is simplest than wine and good company?" He nodded courteously and refilled her glass.

"Do you truly believe there will be fighting before this issue is solved?" She asked after nervously smiling at him.

"Before, during and after." He checked the time on his MobiGlas. "If I pulled my punches when I said it during the interview its simply because it was not my intention to worry your audience."

"But surely the separatist know that the navy would intervene..." She pointed out.

"Ah, Ms. Dupont, let me give you one more lesson: Any Empire should doubt the loyalty of their army if over seventy percent of its soldiers are not 'natives'. It's one of the downsizes that comes along with expansionism, eventually you have to recruit 'foreigners', and well, who knows who they'll side with in case of a civil war?" He looked at his MobiGlas again. "But we should truly get going Esmeralda, rather we be late."

"What? Where are we going?" She asked with a troubled look in her face. "And I don't recall telling you my first name..."

"Well, it's right here." He pointed at his MobiGlas. "On the reservations your editor arranged for us. Oh, I assure you, it'll be a delightful play, I've been eager to see it." He said with a smile.

Esmeralda emptied her glass.

**...**

"No, that's with a 'th', Chel." Said Axel.

"That makes no grammatical sense." Protested Kal'Chel.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I sometimes wonder why the hell we chose English as our main language in the first place." He shrugs. "You'll get the han-"

The main door swings open with remarkable strength, bouncing off the wall and almost closing again, Esmeralda pushes it wide open again and comes inside the common room.

"Where is Nathan?" She said, marking every word.

A soft click is heard from the office's door.

"It appears the director has opted for a defensive strategy." Casually commented Kal'Chel.

Axel let out a chuckle.

"It's not funny guys!" Protested Esmeralda. "I had to sit through  _six hours_  of a badly put together reinterpretation of 'Moonfleet'! And if that wasn't bad enough, Borges made sure I didn't miss any of the changes they made!" She explained while walking towards the office.

"It could have been worse." Said Axel.

"I seriously doubt so." She answered while banging on the office's door. "I know you are in there Nathan! Who the hell do you th-"

"Come on Emy, Moonfleet is a classic!" Sounded Nathan's voice from inside the office. "And weren't those excellent seats?" He continued.

"Oh yes!" She pushed the door with her shoulders. "Everyone in the cast could see good ol' Borges moving his hand up my leg!" The door didn't budge.

"What does that expression mean? I'm not familiar with it." Asked in low voice Kal'Chel.

"That's not an expression." Answered Axel with a snort.

**...**

"Representatives from Terra threaten to slow down their exports if their presentation is cut-off from the next senatorial session. Local senators argued that formal defects had to be remedied first. Heated words were exchanged between local conservative governors and the Terra delegation. Representatives from the Stanton system protested as well since it was their presentation that was initially planned to be addressed on the next session. The whole Senate erupted in a chaos of both angry and apologetic voices until the session was ended abruptly by the High-Secretary."

Mr. Dupont switched channels with a groan.

"Politicians... best friends one day, worst enemies the next." He said, more for himself than for his daughter, who was on the other side of the counter.

"Doesn't it make you worry Dad?" Asked Esmeralda with clear concern in her voice. "Most of your products come from off-world, don't they?"

"You let me worry about the shop." He took a swig from his beer can. "Those fools don't scare me, I worked the lanes long enough to know how it is. They shut us out, we get the cargo from somewhere else while their goods rot in storage. By the time they realize their mistake, we already have better deals knocking on our door." He chugged down the rest of the can. "Come on, grab whatever you like and cook something for your old man."

"Sure, dad." She said with a smile.

The shop was pretty empty, as usual. It only catered to very specific clients, mostly his father's friends and acquaintances. More than a store, it was a gathering place for old space-farers. From time to time some young pilots would come over and ask her dad about the best way to get from one place to another, her father would give them advice and he was always interested in hearing from them again, if only to keep up to date about new routes or events.

"Throw me out the airlock! Is that you Rick?!" Yelled Mr. Dupont.

"Jettison my cargo and bring me in for smuggling! Cristian Dupont behind a store's counter. Never thought I'd see the day!"

Her dad had been grounded ever since she became old enough to go to school. Her mother and him used to speak about how much fun they had travelling through systems and meeting all kinds of people. After she passed away, Esmeralda rarely heard her father talk about those days anymore... except when their old friends would come visit.

"Dad?" She smiled. "Should I make enough for three?"


	4. Baggage

"Wall-Breach! Get those charges in the jump cases and double check their safeties!"

"Sir!"

"Newt! How long we've got?"

"About five minutes, Major."

"Alright, enough time to recap. Gather 'round marines!"

"Ripper! Stop messing around with that preacher and get in line!"

"Sir!"

"Newt, hook up the ship's sensors with the holo-screen and give me an image of the target."

"On it Sir."

"Wight! Get that damn harness on properly! No-Drift, get that sorted out!"

"Space-Jump 101 you damn numbskull! Get the damn thing under your arms, around your waist, under your legs and turn on the navcom unless you want to take a really long cruise to nowhere! Ripper! I swear to god I'll kick you into the nearest sun if you don't fasten that gun properly!"

"On it Sarge!"

"Screen's ready sir."

"Alright marines, listen up! This is the UEEN Solstice; the battle group has positioned itself just outside heavy weapons range of the pirate station and is currently engaged in a staring contest with enemy ships."

"So those navy boys get to sit back and relax while we do all the work?"

"Shut it Holo, or I'll replace your rifle with a combat knife."

"Can I put my scope on it Sarge?"

"Enough! This is us; right now we are sitting on the dark-side of some planet's moon. It seems that the pirates didn't notice our ship peeling off from the main force and are unaware of our existence."

"Wouldn't they have shot at us already if they knew we were here, Sir?"

"Who knows? Maybe they've deployed all their ships to make sure the Solstice doesn't get any ideas, or they just want to play shooting gallery with us. Just don't be behind Ripper, rookie, he has a tendency to draw fire his way."

"You are one to talk Tetsu."

"Shut the hell up! Next man who speaks out of line will make the jump without oxygen! Clear!?"

"Sir, yes Sir!"

"Newt, time?"

"Three minutes, Major."

"Alright, here comes the fun part: We get to jump out of this perfectly good ship, drift through about twenty kilometers of vacuum and land near these entry hatches here and here. What is it now, Holo?"

"Sir, how do we know we won't be hit by a rogue asteroid from the planet's ring, or waste from the station, or loose bolts, or whatever is flying around that pre-TW piece of scrap those pirates put together? I just don't want my epitaph to read ´killed by frozen turd´, sir."

"Well, lucky for us the Navy didn't completely screw this one up. The Solstice happened to have an old ghost on board and they sent it to do some preliminary recon. Supposedly, the sensor data they gave us is somewhat reliable. As long as the navcom doesn't botch the trajectory calculations we should be able to complete the jump with no casualties. Newt? How are we on that?"

"Uploading to the harnesses now. About two more minutes to program the thrusters and double check everything, Major."

"Get those helmets on and start pre-jump safety protocols!"

"Yes sir!"

"Pilot, this is Holler, we are about ready back here."

"Copy that Major. Be advised, it seems the pirates are tired of sitting on their thumbs."

"Good timing on their part… No-Drift, you take Newt, Ripper and Tetsu. I'll take Wall-Breach, Holo and Wight."

"Roger that Major. What do we do about resistance?"

"We'll be relaying on Newt to get us in without rising alarms. After the breach, maintain a low profile and proceed to your objective. No unnecessary kills and no coms. We'll give each other fifteen to get in position. Both teams should be ready by then."

"What do we do in case we have to scuttle?"

"You conserve your ammo and hope the navy boys grow a pair. Oorah?"

"Oorah!"

"Pilot, we are deploying, do your thing."

"Copy. Good luck out there Sir."

"I don't need luck. I've got marines."

…

Major Holler walked away from the intercom and joined his men. No-Drift was still struggling with Wight's harness. He tapped the rookie's helmet and pointed at his gun's strap, which was entangled with one of the thrusters.

"Get that straightened out, rookie." He said through the squad-com.

"Yes sir!" Martially answered Wight, but when he tried to rise his hand to salute, it got caught on the strap and almost pulled the thruster off.

"It's like they just spit you out of the academy. What did they do? Put a patch on your shoulder and told you to call yourself a marine?" Complained No-Drift after fixing the strap.

"Cut him some slack Martin, kid's nervous." Said Holler as the atmosphere recovery began. A couple seconds later and the entire compartment had been depressurized. "Check for leaks on your suits."

The squad took turns checking each other. While they were at it, the rear cargo door lights began blinking. Just as they were done, the vastness of space was in front of them. The station was too far away to actually see it, but it seemed that the pilot was right; a few explosions could be seen from time to time in the direction where the battle-group should be.

"It seems the bugs finally came out to play." Said Holo, while looking through his scope.

"Corporal, do you intend on riding that gun during the jump?" Snidely asked Holler, who followed up right away. "Strap it back on and fall in!" He yelled through the coms.

"Sir!" Quickly answered Holo, who did as ordered.

"Everything is set Major. I updated the navcoms with chunks of code from the Solstice systems in order to ensure backwards compatibility with tele-"

"Spare me the tech-talk Newt. Will these things get us where we need to be?" Interrupted Holler.

"Navcom gives an 87% success probability." He answered after thinking for a few seconds.

"So what happens if we get the other 13%?" Asked Wall-Breach.

There was a moment of silence.

"Let's just hope those pirates are in a bland diet." Said Holo.

"Marines!" Holler's voice implied it was time to get serious. Everyone stood in attention. "You know the plan. Shut coms."

Silence...

With atmosphere gone and the squad communication system shut off, the only thing to be heard was their own breathing. It was like going deaf all of the sudden. The brain receives information through one's eyes and grabs from memories how a particular something is supposed to sound: A boot stepping on grating, the sound of machinery, a loud thud when something falls...you can't really hear it, but the brain tricks you into thinking that you did.

Holler gave the signal and they jumped out into space. No thrusters yet, they had to clear the vicinity of the ship and give each other some room. It was an interesting sight, everyone's individual jump was made with slightly different strength and trajectory, which translated into the entire squad spreading out in eight different directions with eight different speeds. It didn't seem like much of a difference at first, but the longer they drifted, the harder it was to spot each other.

The troop carrier had gone dark and their suits emitted no light at all. Looking around, they saw the edges of the planet and moon they had been orbiting, but the vast majority of their mass was complete and utter darkness. They could make out their sizes by the void their shadows left on space. No stars shone there. Not the smallest vestige of civilization, nor volcanic activity or storms, but then again, without an atmosphere that was a given. Only pirates and other rejects could have ever wanted to live by those lifeless rocks. Still, the Navy didn't like them there, so they had to go in and make sure to "evict" them.

It would have been nice if they had done their homework though.

Initially it was a simple board and reclaim mission. Early reports stated a yellow-3 threat level, no weapons or shields, low-class ships only. Boy were they wrong. The pirates had detected the scout and powered down everything, trying to remain under the radar. It backfired completely. The UEEN saw them as an easy target and deployed the Solstice with only a handful of support vessels and their squad on-board to deal with the pirates who were sure to surrender…

When the battle-group approached the station, the pirates fired at them with planetary-defense type weapons, they burnt through the shields and hull of the Solstice like butter. If the ship was still operational after that it was most likely because the pirates saw an excellent opportunity to capture it. However, a couple shots by the Rene Saadi exposed the fact that they had burnt their shields out by firing those guns. In all honesty, whoever jury-rigged those weapons into the power system of such an old station deserved major props. In any case, when the pirates realized they were exposed, their dreams of an easy fight evaporated. After a skirmish that lasted a few minutes, the Navy retreated to a safe distance and now here they were… flying though the vacuum.

After drifting for a little while they engaged the harnesses' navigational computers which, in turn, activated the thrusters. A couple low burns and they were on their way. It was a wonder those things still worked, they probably were issued to the Solstice on its maiden's voyage. The "spacewalker" design was at least that old and these probably had never seen use before. Hopefully, quality control was a bit more strict back in the day. On the bright side of things, the thrusters had a really low energy signature, making them harder to detect.

Ten minutes after engaging thrusters they got in visual range of the station. The pirates kept firing their main guns at the direction of the battle group. They were definitely firing outside the weapon's effective range, but with a weapon that big, even dispersed energy rounds could be dangerous. The fight was still going it seemed, and at this distance it was easier to see the explosions and even the odd ship silhouette. Lucky for them, it seemed that there was no activity in the docking bays during their approach. A couple hundred meters off from the station's hull, the harnesses maneuvered to decelerate. The navigation computers sent a message to the marines' optical data relay warning them to perform manual corrections where necessary.

The first one to "land" was No-Drift, he slowly approached the station's hull and activated the magnetic fields on his boots. He could feel intermittent gravity from the station, it seemed firing that main gun had messed more than just their shields. Next was Newt, who came in a bit too fast and bounced off. He managed to grab onto a maintenance handle before he drifted away. Tetsu had the same problem but he activated his boots before he landed, so he didn't bounce. The three of them gathered around and nodded at each other. Newt pointed at Ripper who was coming in last. His approach was too fast though. He tried to decelerate manually but one of the thrusters failed to activate, sending him into an uncontrolled spin. He became disoriented and ended up hitting the station's hull with a lot of force. Part of his equipment got loose and floated away, lucky for him, his gun got stuck into a crevice in the plating fixing him in place as well. The other three rushed to help. No fissures on his suit or helmet, but he had lost half his ammo and his side arm.

Newt pointed into space once more. This time he was signaling at the second group coming in. They were at least two hundred something meters away from them. It seemed that all four had reached the station and, hopefully, they had better landings. No-Drift grabbed his shoulder and nodded in the direction of the hatch, then pointed at his wrist. The message was clear: get to work.

Newt took his mobiglas from a container on his chest. While it may have looked like your regular mobi, it was in fact a heavily customized piece of equipment. Specifically fitted for electronic warfare, it contained both hardware and software which was only available to the military or members of the advocacy. That, along with several modifications and implementations that Newt had added to it made it quite a unique piece of technology. Every technician had his area of expertise, his was infiltration, so he made sure his mobi could adapt to anything that run an operating system.

The hatch had a manual access panel, but it was rusted shut due to exposure. He signaled Tetsu to take something out of his backpack while he scanned for wireless signals. Either the pirates had shut off the station's wireless network or it had broken down, no chance there. No matter, Tetsu handed him his toolbox, a medium sized container which had pretty much anything he could need on the field. He took out a small welding gun and opened the panel. Controls were unresponsive and the interface sockets were rusted beyond repair, but at least it had power running through it. He had to dismantle the entire thing. After separating the sockets from the rest, he pulled the cables out from them and looked at their inner wires. Standard data cables, old, but functional. He plugged an adapter to his mobi and manually wired it to the panel's cables. It worked. He turned and looked at the others and raised his right thumb at them.

He turned back to his mobi and began browsing the system. There was something weird, the door mechanism and the station's systems were incompatible. It seemed that the pirates had updated the station's main OS while leaving secondary unused systems as they were. He injected a bridge program onto the panel and managed to access the main hive. He probed for intruder countermeasures but only found a common firewall which he easily bypassed, it probably came standard with the new OS that the pirates had installed. He downloaded the station's schematics and managed to identify the hatch where the other team had landed. After that, it was a matter of locating it on the system's functions and making sure opening them wouldn't trigger any alarms. The whole thing took a couple minutes, during which his teammates readied their gear for combat.

Newt packed his tools. He looked over his shoulder and nodded. The hatch opened up, sending a good amount of rust into space, the sound of grinding metal came into their minds and their ears became over sensitive for a second. They shook it off and entered the hatch. Fortunately, the inner panel was in a much better condition. Newt shut the outer hatch and pressurized the room, he then plugged his mobi onto the panel and began working again.

"How are we doing?" Asked No-Drift through the helmet's speakers.

"One second sir." Answered Newt. "Major? Can you hear me? Press the green icon." He spoke into the panel.

A few seconds passed.

"Newt? Is that you?" Came Holler's voice from the panel's intercom.

"I've isolated this channel sir." He answered.

"Good job. What's the situation?"

"No alarms triggered. I've uploaded a schematic of the station to the panel. You should be able to download it to your mobi. Inner sensors are burnt though, the power grid is a mess, whatever they did to make that gun operational left a whole lot of things out of order. No way to tell where the pirates are." Answered Newt.

"Did everyone make it?" Asked the Major.

"Ripper head-butted the station, but we are all here." Answered No-Drift.

"We are at full strength then. Continue as planned."

"Yes sir." Said No-Drift as he unconsciously nodded at the intercom.

**...**

With the Solstice crippled, the Rene Saadi and the Gallardo were on a tough spot against the pirate forces. While technically superior, they were not carrying a full complement of fighters and practically no bombers. The pirates, on the other hand, had a variety of smaller craft and a salvaged Tevarin corvette which, while inferior to even the outdated models that the Navy had brought, was still extremely dangerous to smaller craft.

It was a good old stalemate. The Solstice could not use its cruise engines, so it was essentially grounded. The power grid had been seriously busted by the energy discharge. Trying to push too much juice through it could burn out the core. No core meant no shields or defensive weaponry and an inevitable mass funeral back home… if their bodies ever made it back from that backwater system that was.

A distress signal had been sent with a drone; still, that was not comforting anyone. It would take half a day to reach the rest of the battle group, add a couple hours to assemble a party and almost another half a day for them to arrive and it was easy to understand why nobody had big hopes of getting support. There was also the fact that they detected drones being launched from the station, which could be a scare tactic as much as the pirate's own distress signal.

There was always the possibility of scuttling the Solstice and fleeing in case things got out of hand, but why do that while you still had marines to spare?

It was a simple plan; the problem was its execution, which bordered with suicidal.

The station was key. Take control of its weapons and the pirates would lose their edge. The navy was confident that they would win in a stand up fight, but that wasn't possible while that thing kept giving them a safe area to fall back to. Once the station, or at least its weapon systems and communications, was under their control, they'd move the battle group in and surprise the pirates with crossfire. Of course, all of that was easier said than done.

Bottom line, it all amounted to this: First, make sure to interrupt the enemy's communications to ensure they fall into the trap. Second, take over the weapon's bay to ensure they aren't manually disabled. Third, hold out until the Solstice docks and hope the navy boys remember their basic weapons training. Back-up plan was to blow up the weapons bay with tactical charges and disable the C&C room.

As for escape alternatives… 'be creative'.

"Tetsu, take point." Said No-Drift after they opened the inner bulkhead.

Tetsu deployed his hand-held personal energy shield. It was a standard model, equal to the ones used by security forces planet-side. He kept his riot shotgun strapped across his chest for easy access and readied his suppressed hand-gun. No-Drift went behind him, his assault rifle on his left hand and his plasma based side-arm on his right. The weapon was quiet enough not to need a suppressor and with the station's sensors burnt out of order there was no danger of triggering alarms. Newt wielded his mobi but had a compact mass driver sub-machinegun holstered on his belt. Ripper closed the formation. He had lost his side-arm on landing so he had his 'preacher' readied.

The station had been designed to prevent quick boarding actions, so even though they were only eighty meters away from their objective (in a straight line), they had to go across the station twice to get there. Judging by the state of the corridors they moved through, the pirates had nowhere near enough men to fully man the station. There was suspended dust everywhere. Lights flickered like in a horror movie, forcing the marines to disable their photo sensitive visors and just move in low-vision mode constantly. If it was because of lack of maintenance or whatever those pirates pulled on the power grid to make that huge weapon work they didn't know. If that wasn't enough, gravity waned with every shot from the main weapons, which also sent eerie vibrations across the entire superstructure of the station.

"What the hell is that smell…" Whispered Ripper as they opened another bulkhead.

"Switch back to oxygen tanks." Ordered No-Drift.

In front of them was a big room, probably a mess hall back in the day. Tables and chairs where in a complete disarray. Everything was covered in a thick layer of soot. The draft created when they opened the bulkhead had sent a good amount into the air as well.

"What the hell happened here..." Whispered Tetsu.

"Someone forgot the stove on it seems." Answered Ripper as he slowly looked side to side.

"Where to now, Newt?" Asked Tetsu.

"Take those stairs over there, there should be another bulkhead that links to the next level." Said Newt as he browsed the station's schematics on his mobi.

The squad moved carefully up the stairs, stirring more soot onto the air with each step. After going through what seemed like a recreational room they reached the bulkhead that Newt had mentioned. Bunched up against it were half a dozen carbonized bodies, their shapes contorted into nightmarish shapes.

Tetsu shook his head.

"They have tags sir." Said Newt.

"No time now. Just... open the door." Answered No-Drift.

Newt interfaced with the door panel and overrode the fire-safety protocols. When the bulkhead opened, the bodies crumbled and fell. They had lost any resemblance they could have had with the human body.

"God..." Said Ripper as the squad stepped past them.

This new area of the station had seen recent use. The corridors were better lit and there was clear evidence of human presence that didn't date hundreds of years. Gravity was more stable and they could hear the buzzing sound of energy as the station's main weapons fired. The vibration was also more intense on this level.

"Schematics say living quarters sir." Answered Newt to No-Drift's inquiring eyes. "C&C room should be on the next level."

The sergeant checked time on his optical relay.

"We are behind schedule. Enough tiptoeing." He pointed Ripper and Newt to the left side of the corridor and nodded at Tetsu to follow him. "Let's move."

Newt let Ripper take point on his side and readied his SMG while still holding his mobi on the other hand. They advanced quickly, some doors where open, but they spotted nobody inside. When they got to the cross intersection that run through the level they heard voices coming from the left, but they soon faded away.

"Keep moving." Said No-Drift.

They crossed the other half of the living quarters with as much haste as they could and finally climbed the stairs to the next level. Newt checked the schematics again. Power plant, officer quarters, officer's mess hall, meeting room, command and control room, observation deck and another set of stairs. The team reformed on the left side of the corridor and walked carefully towards their objective. The bulkhead leading into the C&C room was open, they could hear voices from inside.

"This is it." Said Tetsu while looking at a plate above his head which indicated the purpose of that room.

"Stay back." Said No-Drift as he moved forward and took his combat knife out. He used the reflection to watch inside. The room was rather large and all consoles were headed outwards onto a huge plexi-glass window. He moved back. "Six, armed but unaware. Two on the left, one in the middle by the big console and three on the right."

"What's the plan?" Asked Tetsu as he holstered his side-arm and grabbed his shotgun.

"I believe it's time we let Ripper have some fun." Said No-Drift.

Ripper grinned.

"May I suggest STRs only sir? We need those consoles somewhat functional." Asked Newt.

"Yes, STRs only Ripper. And just in case, set the preacher's AA on." Said No-Drift.

Ripper's grin evaporated.

"Man..." He complained as he exchanged the ammo for soft targets rounds and turned on assisted aim, taking an extendable cable out from the weapons console and hooking it up to his combat helmet. "Preacher ready to spread the word sir."

Of course 'preacher' wasn't its actual denomination. The technical one is a wide assortment of letters and numbers along with a fantasy name the eggheads came up with but that never caught on. The marines had first called it 'sprayer', but that one didn't catch on either, so they began calling it 'prayer', which lasted for a while before it evolved into the current name. The weapon's best feature, besides the high-rate of fire, is the articulated assisted aim system, which allows the soldier to simply pan in the direction of pre-designated targets (usually through helmet targeting optics) while the gun automatically corrects the orientation of the barrel. This results in higher accuracy with less ammo expenditure.

Ripper got on point and waited. No-Drift looked at the timer on his optical relay, when it reached zero he tapped him on the shoulder moved back and readied his assault rifle. Ripper moved ahead and stood in the middle of the doorway. He quickly tagged all the pirates using the targeting system on his helmet and gently squeezed the trigger. The barrel started turning at a vertiginous speed. After one revolution a storm of bullets came flying out. There was simply nothing those men could do. After four seconds of sustained fire, during which Ripper gently panned the weapon from right to left, there was not a single living soul inside that room.

"Room cleared sir." He said after letting go of the trigger.

Shouts could be heard from above and below.

"Everybody in!" Yelled No-Drift.

They all rushed in. Newt jumped over the big console in the middle and hooked up his mobi glass. Ripper took the right side, hiding behind some broken down machinery and pointing his weapon at the door. Tetsu took the left side, where he pushed one of the bodies off the console and readied his shotgun. No-Drift activated the bulkhead's control panel in order to shut it but it was unresponsive.

"Sergeant? What's your status?" Came Holler's voice through the squad's com channel.

"We are in Major, but we've got hostiles incoming!" Answered No-Drift.

"We've secured the weapons bay! It seems you've drawn most of the attention!" There was some background chatter. "Holo tells me that the weapon's targeting system is here, we'll do the firing, you just signal the Solstice and hold 'til reinforcements arrive!"

"Roger that sir!" The shouts came closer. "We need that bulkhead closed Newt!" He yelled.

Newt signaled the fleet with an encoded message and pulled up the schematics once more. It took him a couple seconds to find the bulkhead and identify it. By then, the sergeant had already fired a couple shots into the corridor to deter the pirates from approaching. After finding the bulkhead system ID, he had to browse the station's functions once more to access it remotely and activate the shutting mechanism.

"Grenade!" Yelled No-Drift as he jumped back.

The explosion was deafening. Shrapnel flew all across the room, a huge piece had lodged itself on No-Drifts right leg, but he managed to limp behind a column. The pirates got to the other side of the bulk-head and fired into the room.

"Tetsu! Cover Newt!" Screamed No-Drift as he blind-fired his assault rifle towards the entrance.

Tetsu activated his shield again and side-walked as fast as he could towards Newt, standing in front of him. A few bullets had already hit the shield, sending energy ripples across its surface. Ripper ran out to No-Drift, providing his own covering fire with the preacher.

"Grab on to my belt Sarge!" He yelled as he kept firing.

No-Drift did as suggested and held onto him with one hand while he fired back at the pirates with the other. They both fell back a couple meters and ducked behind a ruined console. As soon as the preacher went silent, the pirates started firing again.

"Sarge's leg is fucked up!" He took out his emergency medkit. "Close that bulkhead Newt!" Yelled Ripper.

"I'm working on it!" Responded Newt as he kept trying to find the proper function.

Three plasma rounds hit Tetsu's shield and partially deactivated it. Before the shield could recover a mass driver round went through the gap and pierced his shoulder.

"Shit!" He hissed as he ducked behind the console while the shield recharged. "Get that thing closed Newt!"

"I'm working on it!" He responded again.

Two HE grenades came flying onto the room, one actually dropped just by Newt and Tetsu, the latter grabbed it before it went off and threw it back at the pirates. The resulting explosions threw debris all across the room and disabled most of the room's lights. Tetsu put his shield up once more and peered onto the room. No-Drift was reloading Ripper's preacher while he worked on his leg, but they were under heavy fire. That console they were using for cover wasn't going to last long. He looked down at his fellow marine who was frantically typing away.

"Nathan!"

"I'm working on it!" Answered Newt once more, frustration evident on his tone.

"Working on what? I just heard you snoring ten minutes ago." Said Axel.

Nathan put his hand on his heart. It was racing. He sat up from the couch and grabbed his head. His forehead was drenched with cold sweat. He tried to calm down his breathing before answering.

"I.." He paused. "What is it?"

"Food's here. Emy even brought some 'fresh' fruit." He chuckled. "You gonna' eat in there?"

"No... no. I'll join you guys in a minute. Just... I'll be right there." He leaned back on the couch until the back of his head touched the window behind it.

Nathan stayed like that for a bit until he finally took a big breath, put a smile on his face and went on to have lunch with his employees.


End file.
